


The Very Unexpected Company

by CandyassGoth



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternative Universe- no one dies, Another 'Loki tries to fuck everyone' fic, Crack, During The Hobbit, Everyone is just really confused by him, He is a total slut, Hiatus, Loki and Bilbo make friends, Loki goes to Middle Earth, Loki has a major DILF kink, Loki knows he is part Jotun, M/M, Smut, Thorin doesn't like Loki, and joins the adventure for Erebor, and proud of it, at all, might end in surprise mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyassGoth/pseuds/CandyassGoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crossover AU in which Loki goes to Middle Earth and joins the adventure for Erebor, while shamelessly trying to fuck everyone on the way. </p><p> <s>Also, no one dies, because Loki is used to being the one to pull people’s asses out of the fire in dire situations thanks to Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three.</s></p><p> </p><p>  <strong>Now on probable eternal hiatus due to inspiration failure.</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **If you want to read funny/weird Loki/Azog in the beginning go ahead. Rest of the fic is on hiatus**
> 
>  
> 
> So, I like to ship Loki around. I also have a thing for Azog. This fic started off PURELY Loki/Azog. I had meant for a oneshot and that was that. …But it grew arms and legs and everything. Not all that surprising for me and my tastes. 
> 
> **Tolkien** : This fic follows the movie verse, and will have edits here and there for obvious reasons. Keep in mind that while I tried to do as much homework as possible it won’t be surprising if something is weirdly incorrect. I don’t know all the canon from the Tolkien universe. My apologies for that. My muse couldn’t wait either, but I did as much research and reading of fics as I could. But being from Loki’s POV, it shouldn’t be too bad as he’ll be just as ignorant to the canon lol. Also thanks to RockGaara for giving me a good start!
> 
>  **Marvel** : As for Marvel verse it’s AU. Odin made peace with the Jotuns by banging Laufey and getting him pregnant with Loki. So actual daddy Odin, momma Laufey. Frigga makes sure to tease Odin about it. Odin really hadn’t drank enough that night to try forget it. But Loki was worth it.
> 
> So Loki is a half breed, and the opinion of Jotuns is much more at ease and tolerated after the mysterious ‘treaty’ is done. But Odin decides only to tell Loki and the public about Loki’s heritage when Loki has proved he can be just as civil and good as them even if he is part Jotun. It doesn’t quite work out once Loki comes of age and realises his sexuality is a little very super confused, indiscriminate and ravenous.
> 
> What is this, smut, crack? Tookish-Adventure? Dragonsickness-angst? High-pitched-scream-at-a-huge-spider-horror? I don’t know anymore.
> 
> This fic, as all others, is written for self prompt needs, if it is horribly incorrect or doesn’t tickle your fancy then sorry, please don’t hover. Cannot stress that enough.
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors._

_**Chapter 1** _

This being his first time to Midgard alone Loki took advantage of it. He went where _he_ wanted to go. He climbed what _he_ wanted to climb. And he confronted what _he_ wanted to confront. No Thor leading the way with all his royal pomposity to throw about his ego along with his hammer. This was _his_ journey and his choices, _Loki’s_! Of course once someone realized he was gone they would start searching for him, but he did not want to be found. And so, he wouldn’t. Heimdall had yet to realise he was being conned, and that was a great feat if Loki did think so himself.

The area he came about through the portal was not one he had been to before. The portal was temperamental in its destinations, but never too far off. It always led to Midgard and that was good enough for Loki— _small_ enough. Midgard was hardly dangerous to threaten a life such as his, where as the vast reaches of the galaxy could. While he had an ego to rival Thor’s he also possessed a far greater span of concern for his own wellbeing. Something called _self preservation_. Though ironically, he was not exempted from the lure of boasting his ego when he wanted to throw around his own weight in childish pursuits. 

Pursuits much like fighting off a horde of disgusting goblin-like creatures rather than making a run for it. With his stealth and magic he could easily elude the stampede of these _beasts_ , and yet he chose to stay. Some out of curiosity, some of out purely playful bloodlust. Unless he was hunting for food Loki did not go around killing things. _Unless they were trying to kill him first._

So self preservation kicked off the side of the cliff, Loki took elementary joy in defending himself and slicing his way through the monsters. They were certainly sentient, shaped like disfigured men, but behaved like beasts when not trying to imitate a man. Swinging their axes as they might, they were far better off on all fours growling like rabid dogs. Their skin dark, covered in grime, their mouths rowed with sharp crooked teeth. Many of them had strength, but their skin was weak and their movements slowed by their heavy armour and multitude of disabilities. Neither creature was the same either, each unique in their grotesqueness. 

Thor wouldn’t have found pleasure in this, Loki knew. Thor liked a challenge, one with much an audience and more so competitors, just so he could beat them all down then laugh it off, offering his hand in friendship and implied dominance for the future, or their death and his ultimate victory. But with these things, strike one down and there were ten more, a never ending supply of mindless drones roaring and unable to comprehend other battle tactics such as taunts and sarcasm. They sported none, going straight for the kill, one-track minded.

Loki had never been one for wielding heavy weapons, but his daggers eventually proved difficult in this battle. Knives (if you wanted to _keep_ them) sufficed for distanced fighting—something near impossible to find victory in with these monsters. There were too many, and eventually Loki grabbed a spear from one of them. The creature looked thoroughly surprised as Loki ripped it from his hands, as if that had never before happened to him, and his world swerved upside down as Loki swung it to sever his head, testing its use.

The spear served Loki better than the daggers. It kept the monsters further at bay, but the make of the weapon was unbalanced and half hearted, much like the creation of these things. What in the name of the Nine was the purpose to them? Simply to terrorize travellers? And if their bloodlust didn’t do it, there stench certainly did.

Quickly Loki’s own bloodlust simmered, put out by the blotches of black blood splattered across his person and the stolen spear. And as the heat in his veins cooled so did his energy, but on cue his self preservation clawed its way back into his chest. If he wanted to escape these wraiths intact he would have to act quick, there were too many, too many meaningless bodies ready to die for a pointless battle. No amount of hacking and slicing would bring victory. And unlike Thor, Loki knew when to quit.

In secret Loki had been practicing how to wield his Jotun nature. After learning the truth through an accident involving a near death experience trapped in a blizzard, Loki came to find that the reason he had always been the black sheep of the family was because he was actually the _blue_ sheep of the family. Odin was his father, but Frigga was not his mother. His mother was a frost giant. _The_ frost giant, King Laufey of Jötun-fucking-heimr.. Upon hearing the news, what bothered Loki most was the image of his father mounting a fierce Jotun twice his size.

Thor ended up blurting the exact same thing to him (in private) when he was brought into the loop.

Despite the shock of it all, Loki found that things made sense now when they didn’t before, and he was glad for the truth. It was because he was half Jotun that he never felt cold, or why he couldn’t stand the blaze of the sun for too long before he blistered and peeled viciously. It was because he was Jotun that he had jet black hair and stronger than average nails. It was because he was Jotun that he found a natural appeal in the same sex, rather than women—which his race lacked (not that he couldn’t feel the appeal). It was because he was Jotun that he had the strangest urge to rut with the biggest things he could find when he reached his coming of age, his nature finding compensation for the lack of Jotuns available for him to cavort with. 

But why he couldn’t have had a Jotun’s physical size was still beyond him.

While Thor had always been the one to explore his sexuality since the start of manhood, Loki was a late bloomer, but became increasingly libidinous the older he got, his tastes confused through his mixed blood and upbringing. Men, giants, trees, horses? His lust didn’t have as many qualms about his spectrum as Thor did.

Frigga and Odin were quick to remind him that just because he knew of his other side now did not mean he could act any old how. If anything, he had to be respectable and show the people of Asgard that they could truly unite with Jötunheimr in peace and harmony. Thor was ever ready to help in the plan, both annoying and arousing Loki with his attractiveness and eagerness, but Loki just couldn’t be bothered. He didn’t _want_ the responsibility, whether it was his youth or his Jotun side (which he started blaming everything on). And in truth, he was definitely a little daunted by the idea of meeting Laufey, king of Jötunheimr, his _mother_. 

And so secretly Loki learnt himself inside out, until he knew where and how he was different to that of a pure-blooded Jotun and Aesir. Odin had a spell cast upon him to hide his blue skin and red eyes, but if Loki wished it away it released its hold until he summoned it back, leaving him to stare into the mirror for hours on end. He did once creep up on a drunk Thor like that, peeking up from the side of the bed with his very red eyes, poking Thor awake just to find him and be violently startled, accidently crushing his current bed mate as he scrambled back. It could have been hilariously funny, had the poor girl not suffered a broken arm.

From then Loki kept a low profile, being the good little son Odin wanted and a model citizen so that when the day came that Odin revealed his nature, Asgard would _truly_ believe in an alliance. Loki was an excellent liar, a great politician and very sharp witted. He could manoeuvre around a court of constipated lords and ladies like a snake in the grass, unseen and quick to strike first. He was very good at playing his part, savouring Odin’s praise and making Thor look like a blundering idiot rather than the future king of Asgard. 

But it was boring. _Boring_. Even with his sneaking off to fornicate with random men (and interesting beasts) in disguises. Loki was a Trickster, and he half Jotun—he was not meant to be contained and live the life of a respected and mature prince. Oh no, he was meant to be free and untameable as the very winds on Jötunheimr. 

Why he chose Midgard was a last minute choice between two other places, but it served him well seeing as Midgard saw to its own affairs. The other realms were too closely monitored by one another for him to properly disappear. Midgard stood alone for a while now, and it came to be something beautiful.

Although that thoroughly excluded the monsters Loki was currently facing. He resorted to invoking his Jotun nature, forming ice blades in his hands and flinging them, slicing throats and puncturing lungs. It gave him back his personal space, and eventually the immediate threat to his life dissolved as the cretins stood around, unsure, shielding themselves with their shields and weapons, staring at his Jotun skin with something akin to fear. The respite was gladly accepted and Loki panted, trying to catch his breath before they attacked again. He had never used up so much water from his body before, and the result was rather frightening, especially in such a dire situation.

But then one of them spoke, a harsh snarling few words, and Loki squinted. 

Then another spoke, directed at the first. Then all of a sudden the beasts were chattering loudly, shouting at one another. Maybe they were trying to figure out how to kill him? The ground was covered in their dead. Loki could only imagine the horrid death they were planning for him. 

Loki was about to disappear, a simple trick of the light, when an animal growled and a bestial voice barked above the other voices. The creatures cowered in response, ducking their heads and spreading apart as the breathing of a very large animal grew closer. Loki shifted and reinforced his stance, ready to strike out, when the owner of the voice appeared, riding what Loki knew to be a Warg.

And if Loki had ever chosen the weirdest boner, it had to have been the one he got from the creature astride the animal.

Large and brutish, the _man_ for it was clearly masculine, stared down at him through small conniving blue eyes. _Blue_ eyes, almost beautiful even with the malevolence shining through them. His face was wide set, a good jaw, but Loki doubted he would be classified as handsome in the sense of the word. His teeth were sharp and rowed, much like the others, pointed ears, but everything about him was just… _superior_. Even the gait he possessed. Unlike the cowering minions he was shaped perfectly in Asgardian standards, powerful muscled arms and thick thunderous thighs that put even Thor’s to shame and made Loki want to get trapped between them.

His skin was that of marble, marred with intricate scars that had to be purposely inflicted, even across his face, standing clear and proud around actual battle scars. It struck Loki has something smart to do, no leader of such a crowd could have perfectly polished skin, where was the intimidation in that? Perhaps this giant possessed a little initiative, unlike his soldiers.

“ _Mut-ta hai_?” the pale brute asked in their strange tongue, inclining his head to the monsters.

Loki squinted again, jumping when the Warg growled at him, as if demanding a response from him. He took a moment to admire how beautiful the animal was, white as snow and well kept, strangely fitting for her master. Again Loki was struck with the thought that the creature astride had some sense about him.

“ _Mut bugh skaat-lat_?” This time the question was directed at him. He squinted again, frowning, knowing it would be useless to explain his inability to understand. Usually language wasn’t a problem when _he_ went around, sex was a universal language after all.

“ _Ozt-ta shara! Shara-zash! Riip-tab_!” Shouted one of the creatures, pointing with a crooked finger. They all started throwing questions around.

“ _Dushatâr_?”

“ _Urûk ûn_?” 

“ _Urûk akûl_?”

The pale leader sniffed not so subtly in his direction. “ _Skûm-nar Golug-glob-zash_.” The words were said with some kind of amusement and something else as he leaned over, taking Loki in head to toe as if he owned his very shoes. The crowd seemed to have calmed substantially since his appearance, but Loki found himself wasting away his time rather than escaping, as intrigued as the pale giant.

Whether it helped or not, Loki decided to just try. Asgard had passed on the Common Tongue to Midgard many years ago when they first came down to dally with the mortals. It quickly spread, allowing yet another world the ability to communicate with those they would come across from the other realms. These things, _people_ , were not exactly that of humans, but it was worth a try.

“I am Loki. A traveller.” He said, instantly gaining rapt attention. Everyone went silent, staring, then they all looked to their leader.

The pale beast raised a brow line. It was surprisingly disrespectful, as if he weren’t permitted to speak. If that was the case they had another thing coming, even _with_ their big scary…attractive commander.

“What are you?” the leader asked, this time in the Common Tongue. Loki straightened, relieved, but noting the harsh accent. He doubted he could speak many words before he lost the pointy-eared giant.

It then occurred to him that there weren’t exactly any kinds of races on Midgard with blue skin, and he was still wearing his. He had never seen or heard of any, not that he’d heard of _these_ things either, but they looked just as confused by his existence. “…I am a frost giant. Jotun.”

The pale one scoffed— _scoffed_!—and leaned over with a patronising look. “Not _giant_.” He said, his voice a snarl as he pointedly sized Loki up. Then he reconsidered for a moment, glancing at the ice daggers and spikes littered about the battle field (seemingly apathetic about the dead bodies), smirking shallowly with a mocking nod as he offered a compromise. “Frost.”  
A few of the minions laughed, muttering to one another.

Loki glowered up at him. He was well aware of the irony of his size, he didn’t need it punched in.

“ _Loki_.” The creature repeated, again in his strange accent, rolling the name on his tongue like a treat. It was clearly a taunt and Loki shivered any how, never one to turn down perverse bait as the _man_ tilted his head, displaying his thick neck, lined with blue veins. He had a thick everything, Loki saw, and immediately his eyes wandered down his broad chest. _Oh_ now that was a body to straddle.

“ _Loki… Nargzab-izg-ta. Thrakta_!” This Loki couldn’t understand aside from his name, but the butt of a weapon collided viciously with the back of his head, and the world went black.

 

When sleep crept away, Loki awoke to the foul scent of stale sweat, old blood and musk. He blinked repeated to clear his vision, and found the world side ways. He reached to scratch an itch on his arm, but found his wrists restrained. He blinked uncomprehendingly at the bindings digging into his wrists, then at the thick fur beneath him. Around him there were muffled sounds, voices, footsteps and the sound of metal now and then. It was dark and eerie. But what worried Loki most was the itch on his arm, it was beginning to sting, like a piece of hair was being slowly and cruelly plucked from its root.

He lifted his slightly aching head, if only to see what was happening, and found a huge winged insect clamped on his bare skin, sucking away through a nozzle and disgustingly filling with his blood. He made an embarrassing noise, jerking the bindings, still sleep drunk—when someone slapped his arm hard. The pest was squashed, fresh blood splattering everywhere, and Loki cried out to the added sting on his arm. He looked up, in pain and outraged, and found the pale creature from before, shaking his hand off and towering over him, with a dark glint in his eyes that danced deliciously with the grin on his face.

“ _Fuck_!” Loki spat viciously when he got his wits back, a nice big patch of skin beginning to burn from the double assault. He snarled, realising his clothes had been torn and outright ripped off in places, and pulled harder at the bindings knowing they would break loose if he put his back into it. But he ceased all movements when the giant lifted his assaulting hand, and licked away his blood. Loki stared as a long grey tongue ran over the thick digits, a familiar twitch emanating from his groin despite his irritation.

“Not Wizard. Not Elf. Not Man. Not Orc.” The pale giant said, rolling the blood around his mouth before swallowing with delight. Loki shivered at the barbaric display, desiring for the blood to be licked right off his damn arm. He couldn’t help hovering on one of the words though, unfamiliar to his studies.

“Orc?” he repeated.

“Orc.” He was gestured to the others who were sitting around, talking in their snarling language, occasionally fighting over chunks of meat, or nothing at all. Loki glanced down at himself to make sure he wasn’t missing any bits further than pieces of leather. Thankfully he was intact and still decently clothed. _Not for long_ …Satisfied, he looked back up.

“You are an _Orc_?”

The Orc nodded, smiling deviously, his eyes drifting down Loki’s form without shame, his wide jaws moving side to side in thought. 

“You look different.” Loki blurted out. He hadn’t meant it as an insult, there was just a clear distinction between the leader and his soldiers. For a moment the pale Orc looked upset, angered, but it smoothed out and he lowered himself down onto the furs with careful movements, as if to intimidate Loki with his unreadable face. Loki tried to shift away, knowing not to underestimate others, and calculated how much strength it would take to chuck the boulder his bindings were tied to at the _Orc_ should he want to leave. Far more alert now Loki saw they out in the open on a hilltop, their horde surrounding a large fire in a lose circle, Wargs and Orcs alike.

The giant leaned over, giving Loki the impression he hadn’t had to ever explain himself. “Better.” Was all he said, before he roughly took hold of Loki’s arm and started licking away the remaining blood, forcing out a heavy shiver from his victim. He manhandled Loki up into an uncomfortable position so without leaning too far over he could lap at his skin, his tongue wet warm and surprisingly nimble. Loki groaned loudly, catching attention from the others. 

Heat pooled in his belly as he held still, allowing the handling from the Orc, but he watched closely through lidded eyes just in case the Orc decided to bite a chunk out of him. It was no mystery that meat was what these things dieted on, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way if flesh was on the menu. While he enjoyed being eaten out (that long tongue could be so useful _somewhere_ else…) he had no desire to be _eaten_ , much less alive by sentient creatures.

It was then that Loki properly realised he was back to his Asgardian colouring again, no longer blue. He had to admit his blue form was scarier, but he doubted reverting back would work to scare these creatures now. Especially not their leader, who was grazing his teeth along his arm with a deep rumble, apparently savouring the touch of his blood-smeared skin like he was a lamb over the fire. 

Another twitch shot through him from his cock and Loki’s skin tingled beneath the sharp teeth. The pale Orc growled louder and dug his teeth in, a warning. Loki jerked, gasping faintly as the feeling intensified, and decided to play the meek card. He knew how men like this thought, and he knew how to submit for gain. It was something Asgard as a whole could not comprehend. Unlike Thor he would rather smart and smooth his way out than receive a black eye by throwing angry punches for his pride and dignity. Dignity was only lost by such tactics when they were a last resort. They were Loki’s first and foremost plans, and he loved it.

“Who are you?” he managed asked, moaning when the grip on his arm tightened and the Orc leered down at him, teeth bared up. The question stilled him for a moment, before he dropped Loki back down and chose to rake his thick clawed fingers through Loki’s hair.

“Azog.” The Orc answered after a pregnant pause, purposely tangling his fingers. Loki winced and blinked away the pain, letting the beast slowly arch out his neck. He panted, swallowing so that his throat bobbed, successfully making the Orc jerk forward, his bottom lip trembling enticingly. He panted harshly, but the scent of his fear reached the beast, and he growled in satisfaction, a sound that of an animal.

The show was seen and proved affective. Azog leaned over as he yanked Loki back up by the hair as far as the bindings would allow, and snuffled along his hair line to his neck, scenting him like a wolf. Loki squirmed against him, devouring the dangerous attention, and for the first time noticed the Orc had only one hand. He was horribly slow today—tonight? 

Loki stared in genuine shock, blinking at the crude iron replacement stuck in his arm, his hand severed just someway below the elbow. The area of dismemberment appeared evened out beneath the hardened skin that was drawn and covered over it. Loki doubted it was a wound out of battle, but he had to give the man major points for being able to go about with the iron impaled through his arm. It was held together by flesh and will, not bindings or magic. Norns, this man would be revered in Asgard, if he wasn’t so savage. 

The fact that this Azog had such a strong will, such control over pain and over his body, made Loki melt straight into him. Alpha male was definitely a word to describe him.

Azog noticed his stare, and chuckled hollowly, a frightening sound that promised misery and pain. He extended the arm and turned it this way and that, his lip curling. “ _Gazat tûr-at za_.”

Loki frowned. Azog snorted, and repeated himself. “ _Gazat_. Dwarf.”

“…A… _Dwarf_ did this?” Loki asked, a smile turning up the sides of him mouth at the image. Azog stilled at its appearance, then snarled threateningly and shook Loki’s head as if to rid him of it. Loki yelped and struggled awkwardly, just managing to keep from forcing his escape. The thrill of the danger and new discoveries was too intriguing to run from just yet. Not to mention the heightening scent of arousal dripping off the Orc, he had to discover that first.

He went limp in Azog’s grasp, breathing in his scent and allowing it to infest his senses.

“Oakenshield will pay.” Azog growled, turning Loki’s face up again so he could purposely dig the pointing ends of his iron hand into his cheek.

Receding again Loki winced and nodded as much as he could, hands balled against his chest, neck bared. “Alright, alright.” He had no idea who Oakenshield was, though he could guess it was the Dwarf. He would much rather like to meet this Dwarf that managed to maim a great beast such as this. What was Azog like when he had two hands? Well, Loki was sure he would have been in a little more pain, that was for sure. Maybe the Dwarf had been in a similar position, but managed against the odds and dismembered Azog. Thinking about it, and what he had gathered from the Orc, he could only imagine how much shit the Dwarf was in for causing such a disability to such a proud and fierce being.

The submission he gave pleased Azog, but he made sure to nick the skin before pulling away. Loki gasped, then gasped in pleasant surprise as Azog leaned over to lap at his cheek. The drag of his tongue was firm and hot, full of confidence and expectation. Loki could feel his wide scarred chest pressing down on him, caging him, and his body shivered in the telltale signs of lust. He had always been attracted to power, whether to wield it, or submit to it. He squirmed and tried to shift his legs apart, desperate to rut his hardening cock against his captor.

The Orc sniffed him again, and Loki felt him smirk. He uttered something in his language, a question, but definitely a rhetorical one. When he pulled away Loki saw the dangerous mischief in his eyes, and he had no chance to prepare when he was flipped over onto his belly. He coughed out a lungful of air, moaning at the power of the Orc, unable to draw in another breath as Azog leaned a hand on his back, holding him down like prey. 

Against his thigh he felt the iron hand ghosting. Loki stiffened at the thought of the beast digging it in just to hook onto the clothing and rip it off, along with his skin and flesh. He bucked, nearly knocking the brute off and successfully surprising him. But it was short lived and Azog descended upon him again, grabbing his hair in punishment and pulling his head up in a tight arch, a heavy knee on his back

“Be still, little giant whore.”

Loki just managed to obey, shuddering at the demeaning words and the strength of the body bearing down on him. He took as much air as he could, and peeked over his shoulder as if he wasn’t capable of rivalling the beast’s strength. “D-don’t hurt me.” He whispered, drawing in on himself as if he were defeated.

Azog laughed, showing off his pointed teeth, but other wise ignored him as he started ridding him of his copious amounts of leather. Or rather, he tried to. Quickly the giant became frustrated with all the clasps and tight corners, clearly not used to having his prey so well clothed. Loki bided out his time to the last second, not wanting to make Azog think he thought him inept, before the iron hand became a threat once more, and he started struggling until he was on his side pushing at the Orc’s massive chest.

“Wait! Just wait! Let me take them off. I’ll take them off.” Azog leaned back, studying him shrewdly. Loki panted, wiping the hair from his face with the back of his hand. “I’ll take them off. Just untie me.”

Azog raised a brow, clearly asking if Loki thought he was stupid.

“Then you will have me. Bare. Vulnerable. In front of your men.”

The last line caught Azog’s attention, especially with Loki drawing out the last word, his eyes hooded. Then the seduction fell away and Loki shot up his own brows.

“You _do_ have a cock, yes?”

That clearly wasn’t the right thing to ask, Loki realised, as he was shoved back over and held face down into the musky furs so Azog could rip away his clothing, shouting what had to be obscenities at the strong fabric. Inwardly amused, Loki lay still to avoid accidental harm, cringing at each rip of his clothes. He had many more, but he wasn’t exactly on Asgard to just run home. At the very least he could use magic to bind them back together, so he let Azog have his fun.

 _Eventually_ , to his added amusement, he was bare, feeling stray gravel and matted patches of fur poke at his bare skin. But it all failed in comparison to the burning palm of the pale Orc as he pawed around his body, like one sizing up a piece of meat. Azog titled his head back to his men, never looking away from Loki. “ _Tabz-ta pugh-lobûrz_.” He grunted, making the others chortled, eyes now paying rapt attention. None dared approach them, though they looked ready to do so at a moment’s permission. Loki had the smug feeling they wouldn’t be getting it.

“ _Ulb_.” Azog growled, wrapping his wide had around Loki’s right thigh just below his cheek, squeezing his nails in. “Blue.”

“I can’t do it when you’re squashing me,” Loki retorted, squirming in show, successfully managing to rub his hardness onto the furs. The hot hand tightened and he received a growl for his efforts. He moaned in return, the feeling going straight to his cock. Loki slumped down, again _defeated_ , and peered over his shoulder with glistening eyes. “I’ll behave, _master_.”

Azog’s features twitched and he hummed, lifting and turning his hand so he could dig his thumb between the globes of Loki’s cheeks. His nail scratched against Loki’s balls as it sunk in, finding his entrance with ease.

Loki squeaked in the back of his throat and he stiffened, concentrating on the long awaited feeling. The heavier his breathing got the more he noticed the smell of the blankets, the heavy scent obviously that of an Orc. It was similar in origin, that of sweat musk and time, not to mention sex, but being of Orc it had a few foreign twists his nose didn’t quite like, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him.

Then suddenly the bindings were sliced and Azog undid it from his wrists, far from gentle. When it was loose he locked both of Loki’s wrists in his hand, as if it could possibly contain him. Loki let him think so, and mewled sweetly beneath him, lifting his hips sensually in welcome.

“ _Baduzg-izishi_.” Azog murmured, his expression unreadable. Loki could tell by the tone it was a prompt. So he indulged the brute, and let his skin darken. Azog looked on in awe, almost like a child seeing snow for the first time. It never snowed on Asgard, families made it a trip to go off world to show their young ones snow. Though Jötunheimr had never been a destination. _Not yet_ , Odin had said. Maybe not any time soon, if Loki kept sneaking away to do _these_ things.

Loki lay still, watching Azog as Azog watched him. It was the first time anyone had looked at his Jotun form with such authentic admire, with positive wonder. Azog looked impressed, if that was his impressed face, and trailed Loki’s runes with a rough finger, muttering something in what Loki dubbed _Orcish_.

“ _Tor shum_.” Azog purred, lifting Loki’s hands over his head. He was straddling Loki’s waist. Over his bulk Loki could see nothing, and he frantically hoped no one dared to bite his toes.

“You know what I say?” Azog asked, licking a stripe up Loki’s cheek. Loki shook his head dutifully, trying to lift his hips into the clothed juncture of Azog’s muscled legs.

“Beautiful.” Azog repeated, for Loki to understand.

As ridiculous as it was, Loki’s heart stuttered and he smiled shyly, making the Orc grin. And if he perhaps thought he bagged himself a virgin, Loki wasn’t going to correct him. Playing pretend was half the fun.

Like most of the brutes Loki bedded, Azog did not dabble in foreplay. It was fine with Loki, he loved the rush of it, the desperation for contact, the animalistic pulling and pushing and growling and biting. He loved being fucked like a bitch in heat. Azog did not disappoint, taking him in front of his men, out in the open beneath the stars. One quick tug and turn and Loki was on his knees, hurrying to part his clenching thighs to allow the Orc access. The furs bunched beneath them were not the cleanest but offered a softer foundation for his hands and knees than the gravel around them. 

The man behind him was large and _hot_ , enough for Loki to feel him without any physical contact. It made him shudder at the thought of that heavy body moulded against his own, _inside_ his own, and he lowered his chest to the ground, perking up his arse and swaying it. His Jotun genes were already hard at work, slicking his entrance and allowing passage as Azog shoved in a thick finger, wriggling it around with a grunt of surprise. He ripped it back out to inspect, sniffing it when the clear fluid remained a mystery. Whatever it smelt like to the Orc definitely excited him, and he gave Loki’s arse a squeeze and a rumble of approval before unsheathing himself, producing a thick long cock.

A whine slid from Loki’s lips without any effort, his body flaring at the sight. His cock no longer had the friction of the furs so he reached down and pumped himself, taking in every inch of the impressive length offered.

But quickly it became evident that the lack of two hands made it slightly difficult for the Orc, who started snarling again about a _Dwarf_ , to maintain a proper grip on Loki. Loki took the initiative to help, he had no desire to be impaled by the iron hand if that was how Azog found purchase on his bed mates. And looking around, if these were only the ones he had to choose from, stabbing them in carelessness was probably not very far off.

The Orc was clearly too used to forcing himself on his bed mates, looking at Loki in confusion when he started thrusting back to help engulf his cock. But still it remained uneven and uncomfortable, so in a quick move Loki too advantage of the disadvantage and jerked away. Azog was too busy catching his balance to hurt him for it, but by then Loki pushed him over onto his backside, and plopped himself in his lap with a very pointed grind if his intentions were still unclear. Azog looked even more confused then (after all how many creatures did he come across that actually _wanted_ to have sex with him and his iron appendage), and sat unsure as Loki leaned over and licked his chest.

Luckily that sealed the deal, and the confusion turned to surprise and then eagerness, from both Azog and his minions. The others chirped and chattered to one another as they watched their master enjoy his new toy, so obvious in their intrigue and desire that it made Loki feel like a god. He kept squirming and lapping against the huge hard body until Azog growled something at him and bounced him in his lap, reaching over dig two fingers into his body. Loki grunted and sat up, lifting his arse and reaching between them where he grabbed onto the leaking cock of the Orc. Pacified, Azog leaned back against the column their bedding was placed against, grinning, his eyes wide as he watched Loki replace his fingers with his cock, and sink down at least half way before stopping for a breath. 

Loki’s own length was twitching between them, urging Loki to lean forward just a little more so he could press it into Azog’s warm stomach. But he resisted, at least until he was fully seated, panting heavily and enjoying the new playmate he found. Azog was staring at him like he was doing something wondrous, and making sure that his men saw it too. He kept his good hand on Loki’s hip, a clever thing Loki thought for he would be a fool not to be somewhat guarded, even if he was being straddled by some blue imp going wild on his cock.

Azog was well endowed, if not a little more veined and with a particularly bulbous head. He had thick strong thighs, perfect for Loki to throw himself back against, as well as broad strong shoulders to use for balance as Loki sunk down again and again on his length, his body accommodating his size with ease; always a pro to being Jotun. Loki had yet, ironically, to bed a Jotun. He refused to admit he was nervous, deciding rather on the excuse that they were over populated as it was, they didn’t need additions to their census. 

Hands plastered to Azog’s shoulders Loki rode him, cock and cheeks bouncing as he did. The enthusiasm was mediocre to Loki, he had done much wilder, but to the pale Orc it could have been a gift straight from the gods. Or the best spoils of war he had ever earned. Azog lifted his hips minutely in rhythm with Loki’s descent, using his good hand to bring Loki’s body down hard in compensation, or maybe just to make Loki scream. Loki indulged him. It was a loud slap of skin on skin, accented not only by their rutting grunts and moans, but by those of the soldiers too. Many of them were pleasing themselves to the sight of their vicious coupling, keeping a safe distance away but never blinking, snorting and jerking and howling their support. It was near that of an orgy, giving Loki a new thrill. He had never been with two partners at once before, let alone more, and decided to add it to his list when he found suitable candidates. Ones who wouldn’t bite a chunk out of his back if he passed out from pleasure.

Despite the danger, no one hurt him. Azog’s growls kept his men well away, and he himself did little other than dig his nails into Loki’s flesh or pull on his hair. He was far too mesmerised by the blue being taking his cock like it was a joy, rubbing his hand over Loki’s body to appreciate the willing softness.

Loki laughed many times that night, sweetly, throwing his hair around and making a mental note to tell his father when he went home that he was not Asgardian enough to truly be the person he expected of him. _This_ was what he loved, what he _craved_.

Especially so when Azog rolled them over again and took charge. 

 

The following morning Loki awoke, half draped over Azog’s chest. Or rather his arse and thighs were, bare and pink once more, warm in the rays of the sun. It was the sound of shouting and metal colliding that woke Loki, but he would have drifted back off had Azog not lifted and shoved him off. Loki spat, akin to a cat, and promptly rolled himself back in the furs for more sleep. 

Around him he heard Azog barking what sounded like orders, and after a few tense moments Loki relaxed when he was sure no one would come interfere with him. Still he wormed around until he was modestly covered in the furs, in no mood to whore around or bat off the others.

Loki hadn’t had a specific plan when he decided on his adventure, so it was no bother to remain with this Orc horde for a few days. The Orcs were among the foulest creatures he had ever come across (if Bilgesnipe were sentient he was sure this would be them), but they were manageable with a firm hand. Azog owned his role well, keeping his minions in line and often boasting shows of power, though rarely needing to. He was the biggest and smartest of them all, and he wasn’t shy to prove it. 

But being the cretins they were, Loki often had to resort to killing a few of them himself when Azog was away on his hunt for the dwarves. They were brutish and rude, and quite bloodthirsty, often getting carried away when they had no leader to snarl at them. While Loki liked the attention and the lust he brought upon the monsters, he had made it clear none were worthy. So when they foolishly stepped out of line Azog returned to find more of his soldiers dead, and the remaining keeping far away from a very nonchalant Loki. Azog never did complain, and simply sent a scout to retrieve more drones from who-knows-where, boasting to his men about his strong bitch. 

It was all fun and games for the first week, lounging around on the best furs ( _new_ furs that didn’t smell like charred flesh, he ordered for), ordering around the Orcs for shade and wind and decent fucking food. They were useful when being put to work and governed by fear, Loki was getting the hang of being queen Orc. 

At least, until Azog’s son came around, Bolg. Loki promptly threw a fit (the actual reason being quite elusive), shocking them all into silence—except for Bolg who immediately distrusted him and the way he had Azog wrapped around his finger. Loki had to admire his opinion, especially when he stuck with it against his snarling father.

Still, Bolg backed down after a few heated arguments in their guttural language, he was still just the son. Loki curled around Azog like a cat, shooting Bolg grins for his victory and making sure to scream loudly that night when Azog joined him in the childish show of dominance in the camp. For all his stomping around Azog was incredibly petty and one track minded. That too was fine with Loki.

That was however, until he got sick of hearing Azog whine about fucking _Gazat_.

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear it doesn’t get OOC. …Too OOC? And I do know its Black Speech not Orkish, but Loki doesn’t. 
> 
> Also, do forgive my wretched Black Speech translations. I went off the website http://logik.li/ and LandofShadow for the language, so if you want to know what was spoken you can just search and find. But really, nothing important was said. Or anything accurate…
> 
> Bilbo is thrown in next chapter. Literally. This fic starts at the end of the first Hobbit film, so instead of being taken by the Eagles with the rest, Azog snatches him up. So yes, this will play out until the end of BotFA. Fun fun fun. Why am I doing this its so long cor blimey


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I apologise for errors. …and the content_

**Chapter 2**

While being slaughtered by Orcs was a possibility Bilbo had subconsciously tried to prepare himself for, it did not even cross his mind that he would be _kidnapped_ by Orcs. Least of all kidnapped by Thorin’s _arch-Orc-enemy_ to who-knows-where and quite rudely tossed in front of a strange Man with black hair adorned with feathers, pieces of what looked like animal bones and militant metal clasps holding together a long black robe of silk. Who on earth could get silk out here? _Glittering_ silk.

“Gift.” Azog said shortly as he dropped the Hobbit onto the ground, a few feet away from Loki’s makeshift shrine. 

Loki stared at the tiny person fumbling in the dirt, then glanced up at Azog who was looking proud of himself, then back down. He shifted awkwardly. “…A child. …Ah. Very…thoughtful?”

“I am not a child!” The person on the ground wheezed, shifting up on their knees. It was a male, with a head full of curly hair, but shorter than Loki knew even Dwarves to be. 

Loki blinked. “Oh. An Earthling midget?”

“Midget…I am a _Hobbit_. Who on earth are you?” the _Hobbit_ shot, doing a good job of hiding how much he was shaking. The whole camp was prowling about, making sure to catch sneaks of the prize their master brought home.

Loki raised a brow at Azog over his head. “Who is this?” 

“Oakenshield’s pet.” Azog smirked. The Hobbit’s jaw dropped and he turned bravely, sticking a reprimanding finger out.

“What?! I-I’ll have you know—”

Loki didn’t get to hear the rest. Azog clamped hand over the Hobbit’s face, an immovable force despite his wildest struggling. “Should cut out its tongue. Talks too much.” The Hobbit made a muffled noise in protest and flailed harder, but he was no match for the Orc who could crush his head like a berry.

Though Loki was rather self-centred and egotistical, a Trickster, a fierce warrior/mage, and a sadomasochist when it came to sex, he was not a bloodthirsty monster. The fear of pain and death in the little Hobbit’s eyes pleased him none, whereas Azog was revelling in it. 

“To be entirely honest I could use someone to talk to. Put him down.”

The Azog stilled while the Hobbit struggled desperately, both his airways blocked by the huge hand, “This is Oaken—”

“He’s mine so unless I say so, you shall not.” Loki decreed, as neutrally as he could. He knew he wouldn’t be above the law forever, there was no use in antagonising the brute. Not too much, anyhow.

Luckily for them, Azog decided to back off. He snorted and shoved the Hobbit forward at Loki’s feet, and turned away to bark at his men. Loki watched him off, still as a statue as the little being on the ground got his bearings. He stood eventually, looking around worrisomely at all the Orcs lurking and openly leering at them, but stood none the less. Loki decided he liked this brave little mouse.

“…And just who the bloody hell are you?”

Oh yes, Loki liked him a lot.

“A little more manners are due to the person that saved your life, you little snot.” Loki shot back. The Hobbit scoffed sourly, sticking his hands under his arms to hide their rattling.

“I beg your enormous pardon then, your highness.”

Loki grinned at his gall. “Very good. I am Loki.”

“...Bilbo Baggins.” The Hobbit said, cautiously. A awkward moment passed where they stared at each other, then Bilbo frowned. “Er, who are you, exactly? How did you just—? …Are you the Necromancer?” 

Not knowing who the fuck that was, Loki shrugged, inclining his head. “No. I am not.”

“I see.” Bilbo murmured. Another silence followed, but this time Bilbo looked around, swallowing at the fact that he was currently surrounded by an Orc pack. The Orcs weren’t bothering them though, stealing glances as they bustled around, following orders. Still, Bilbo couldn’t exactly understand Black Speech. “…What is going on?”

“Supper soon.” Loki said, cheerfully, remembering what he requested for the night. Bilbo frowned, then grimaced.

“Supper? In an Orc camp—that can’t be appetizing.”

“Not in the slightest. My first night here and they’re throwing mortal flesh at me. Disgusting.”

Bilbo shifted. “…You’re not a Man then?”

“Do I look like a woman?”

“What? What, no. I mean—…never mind.” They went back to staring, but the time between them was becoming greatly reduced. “Have there been any…Hobbits? On the menu?”

Loki grinned, all teeth and crazy eyes. “Scared?”

“Well, I have been taken hostage by Azog the Defiler and his band of merry Orcs! I think I am allowed to be! And who calls themselves the Defiler? That is completely—…you’d think Orcs couldn’t get any worse, then you hear _that_. The images it creates is just—I don’t even want to—”

“Stars above, you do talk too much. Wait—the _Defiler_?”

“Who do you think you are with? Just who are and what are you doing here? And why on earth did _he_ think it was a good idea to kidnap me and bring me here? Why not just kill me?!”

Loki pulled an annoyed incredulous expression, throwing a hand about. “Maybe he thought you were cute and juicy and worth the trouble? How should I know how his mind works? Part animal, if you ask me.”

Bilbo scowled, looking around on instinct as he tried to be as small as possible. “You are f—….frustrating.”

“Please, sit,” Loki gestured to the step up to his level, thinking it would suffice for a seat for the tiny man. Bilbo hesitated, but eventually decided Loki was the lesser evil. He didn’t know a thing about Loki, but it was better than Orcs any day.

When he was seated, awkwardly, Loki shifted noisily to face him. “So, you’re part of the Dwarf pack he’s been chasing. Spoils of war, I suppose.” He gestured to Bilbo, wondering just what Azog had thought when he decided to take the Hobbit. “…Are your people dead?”

“No, no. The Eagles, they came. Chased the Orcs off. …With me. One minute there’s an Eagle swooping over me, the next I’m being thrown over a Warg. I don’t think anyone saw me disappear… But they’re alive. They have to be.”

Loki was definitely glad to have this little man for company, he was getting tired of listening to the Orcs growling at each other without meaning. Maybe Azog noticed, how sweet. “You mean…Thorin?”

Bilbo looked wary that he knew the name, but nodded, looking at his exceptionally large feet. “…He’ll be fine. Gandalf is there, they all are. He’ll be fine. Then—…”

“Then they’ll come here looking, and probably die anyway. I don’t know what Azog’s whole reputation in this land is, but he can really go on about your Dwarf king. You’d think it was a lover’s squabble. Bitches like a drunk whore when he’s not killing something.”

Bilbo blinked. “…I have to get out of here.”

“Oh? Not going to wait for your Dwarf friends to come rescue you?”

“I am capable of many things on my own, thank you very much.”

“You’re brave, for one so tiny. I wouldn’t suggest running off, not if you want to be eaten. Or _defiled_. Is that his moniker?”

Bilbo was between laughing and shouting, both hysterically. “ _Where_ do you come from? Care to answer how _you_ aren’t being eaten or—or defiled? Maybe I can use it to get _out_?”

“And rob my lover of his spoils?” Loki asked snootily, but he couldn’t help laughing when he got the desired reaction from the gawking Hobbit.

“You—” Bilbo babbled, pointing off to the hovering crowd. “You and—” He laughed hysterically, shaking his head. “No. No? _What_?”

“Are interspecies relationships considered odd to your kind?”

“Inter—? Relationships? What relationship could you possibly have with that _Orc_?! You’d have to be a complete loon!”

“…”

“…Are you?”

 

**XxXxXxXxXx**

“Damn that Halfling!” Thorin shouted, pacing across the rock. The other Dwarves stayed well out of his way, looking around, despondent, grief stricken by the fact that they had lost Bilbo, and to _Orcs_ no less. 

“This is no time to throw a fit,” Gandalf said, glaring at Thorin before he turned back to the direction they came. “Bilbo is out there, we need to get him back.”

“How do we know he’s alive?” Fili asked, “They could’ve—”

“It’s to lure Thorin.” Balin sighed, “Azog did not get to make a final blow. I am sure he knows it will take more than that to be rid of Thorin.”

“So he took Bilbo as bait!” Kili cried, looking full of energy despite everything. “We can’t just leave him!”

“We can’t just go back,” Dwalin countered, “It’s clearly a trap.”

“But we can’t leave him either!” Bofur said heatedly, starting up a glaring contest with the larger Dwarf. Then they all started arguing, as if Bilbo’s life could be decided through such means. Gandalf grit his teeth and kept out of it, knowing there was no choice _but_ to get Bilbo back, whether the Dwarves agreed to or not.

“Enough!” Thorin shouted above them all. He glared at the Company until they all looked down, some ashamed, some upset.

Gandalf turned, readying himself for an argument, but found Thorin looking defeated. 

“…We must find Bilbo.”

 

**XxXxXxXx**

Second after getting kidnapped by Orcs Bilbo had never thought he would be sitting next to a rather normal looking man, who had somehow formed a bond with an Orc lord, eating pork off a spit fire and talking about relatively normal things like his favourite dish of food or a particularly embarrassing childhood memory. 

Third on the growing list of his was watching the very normal looking man turn _blue_.

It was late into the night when Azog The Defiler finally settled down, in frighteningly close proximity for the Hobbit. Loki laughed at Bilbo who laughed at the idea of sleeping while surrounded by Orcs, but Bilbo belatedly realised he would take the other Orcs over Azog any day. He was a few spaces behind Loki, chained up and threatened not to move, which proved hard when Azog decided it was bed time, and Loki was all glad to have him back. Bilbo was just too shocked to see that Loki had _not_ been joking about his _relationship_. 

“ _Goth-izub_.” Loki purred proudly in Black Speech, reaching out his arms to welcome the pale Orc. But the Orc slapped his hands away, and tugged him by the arm until he was on his knees.

“ _Bhadûr-ub-ulb_.” Azog rumbled, kneeling down besides him as he ran his hand over Loki’s skin, feeling it shift colours. 

Bilbo had been trying to act like he was dead, but he couldn’t help it as he scrambled back as far as the rope would let him when Loki started turning blue. He immediately started to pant, pointing his stubby fingers angrily as the panic of it all crept back up on his vulnerable Baggins side. “What in the name—!”

“Thank you for the pet. But you were unsuccessful in your quest?” Loki said, looking over his shoulder like Azog was pouring him a cup of tea instead of groping his hindquarters.

“ _Ghung Oakenshield kul-slaiûrz mat-ub-at amukh skaat-ub-at-ûr Akashuga_.” Azog inclined his head to Bilbo, apparently having no shame as he lifted Loki’s clothing, bunching it up at the small of his back and relieving his backside to the world. Bilbo choked and looked away, but looked right back when Loki wriggled his arse back against Azog, arching and purring like a great blue cat.

“All in good time, my precious.” Loki hummed, eyes closed.

Bilbo squeaked in the back of his throat, wishing he could reach the ring, but knowing it would be foolish to do so when it could be found and taken from him. So he was left to stare in rapidly increasing horror as Azog made good on his name of The Defiler.

This held a few places from _#4_ to maybe _#12_ on Bilbo’s list of _nerver ever ever ever even Took side **never** could have thought up_ list. 

“Oh, no, _no_. No—what— _good grief_!—” Bilbo spluttered wetly like a fish out of water, turning away when Azog started mouthing at Loki’s back, fumbling with the clasps of his own clothing as he mounted the strange man.

Hearing his distress Loki laughed, watching sideways as Bilbo tried to fuse with the stone around them. “You’d best get used to this, little Hobbit. We’re trying for a child.”

“ _I should never have left Bag End_.” Bilbo sobbed in a high pitched tone, stomping his feet in a last attempt to block out the sounds. 

It was the first time in his life that he felt his feet weren’t big enough. 

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

Barely a day later, Bilbo found he would be scarred for life. Over the course of a few hours he had learnt more about Orc sex than any person in Middle Earth, both from witnessing and hearing it from a very casual Loki, who Bilbo had no idea of what race he was.

This was not the type of adventure and knowledge he expected to gain when he left the Shire. Gandalf owed him, _big time_.

But as Loki pointed out after his brooding against the stone like a child, he was still alive, and seemingly untouchable by Loki’s orders. It was completely insane but he was in fact still alive and well, in one piece and far from being starved or tortured. Though if Loki wasn’t around they both knew he wouldn’t be quite so lucky. So he held his tongue and let Loki talk his sanity away.

 

Another day later they moved camp. Azog refused to speak in the Common Tongue about his hunting of the Dwarves in case Bilbo got any ideas, which left Loki in the dark to the bigger details, his knowledge of the ridiculous language was still a tad lacking. But he wouldn’t complain, a change of scenery was nice and so was the travelling. Loki had gotten his own Warg, and impressing his _lover_ quickly claimed dominance over the black beast, unlike Bilbo who became near a second skin to Loki so not to get nipped, by Orc and Warg alike. Loki thought it as funny as the Orcs, but had Bilbo ride with him, put in charge by Azog of keeping their prisoner alive and in their hands. Bilbo could’ve had worse, he admitted.

The next place they settled at was an abandoned watch tower, and Bilbo was thoroughly lost. It wasn’t a very big one, made for the purpose of watching over a farm that was no longer tended to, but Loki demanded shelter from the oncoming rain and Azog yielded, seemingly amused by his whining and ranting, like a master to a pet. Bilbo was all too happy to watch Loki get his way on this, he was only a small thing and a rather big target to hypothermia, but having to endure listening to Loki ‘pay’ for his demands and attitude at night still made him guess if it was worth it.

After enduring two hours of animalistic grunting and thrusting not two metres from the royal pair, Bilbo decided it wasn’t. As soon as they were fast asleep he put the ring on, disappearing, and crept to the door. They were inside the tower, away from the rain, in a round bare room. Since they were in a confined space Loki deemed it safe to let Bilbo sleep without shackles. “ _Oh please, he won’t be able to even move the door, it’s twice his size_!” Loki had laughed. Well, Bilbo would just have to show him a thing or two.

 

…Evidently, the door was indeed too heavy. Frustrated and desperate, Bilbo ended up making too much of a noise trying to get it open, and Loki was a light sleeper.

Loki jumped up, flushed in his Jotun skin, blade extended and at the ready, squinting into the darkness. At the door Bilbo froze, keeping dead still. But Loki could see his life force, concealed and held by the ring. He could sense him, even though he could not understand the magic being used. 

“How are you doing that?” Loki asked, lowering his weapon. He shifted in the bedding, leaning forward, interest. “I can see the mirage.” He explained when Bilbo chose to remain silent.

Knowing when to back down for the benefit, Bilbo hesitantly took off the ring, clamping it in his fist possessively as he came to sight. But Loki had keen eyes, more so in the dark thanks to his Jotun eyes, and caught the movement. 

“What is that?”

Bilbo shook his head. “I have to get out.”

“What is that?” Loki repeated, getting up with the agility of an elf, sweeping across the room, naked as the day he was born. Bilbo lifted his head so not to catch a glimpse in the dark, and squeezed his fist tighter as he backed up.

“It’s nothing.”

Loki reached. “Then show me.”

Bilbo slapped his hand away. “It’s mine. I don’t have to show you anything. Bugger all!”

“Just show it to me—” Loki snapped, grabbing Bilbo’s wrist. He caught the wrong one as the Hobbit scrambled to escape, but pulled him back as they started to scuffle. Loki aimed for the right hand this time, ignoring the squirming creature, when the hand slapped onto its owners mouth, and came back empty. The Hobbit swallowed thickly, groaning, but stopped his fighting with the craziest look of victory Loki had ever seen. 

Loki backed off an inch in shock. “…Did you just swallow it?”

Bilbo shook his head, swallowing repeatedly.

Loki stared, slightly horrified.

Across the small room Azog stirred, watching them after their struggle. He growled, making Bilbo lean behind Loki who still had an iron grip on him. “What?”

“Nothing, go back to sleep.” Loki said, frowning at Bilbo.

“ _Gai-akashuga gukh_.” Azog grunted, gesturing to the idle chains draped over an upturned bucket in the corner.

Bilbo winced audibly, back to pulling his wrists away. “What? What did he say?”

“Can’t have you escaping now can we? Azog needs his revenge and I need my company, so you’re staying.” Loki shot, dragging him over and securing him to a loop in the wall.

“You can’t keep me here! They’ll come for me and then we’ll all die! Just let me go!”

Loki snorted, humourlessly. “No, _you’ll_ all die. I on the other hand, will be around for a long time to come.” He shoved Bilbo on his backside. “Now go back to sleep.” He made sure to throw the Hobbit the pelt he had used before his attempted escape, its weight knocking him over, then crawled back in bed with Azog.

“…Fine. Keep me here.” Bilbo muttered, sitting up against the wall, cradling his stomach in belated shock at what he had done. “Thinking about it, they might not come. Thorin might—…he might not come.”

Azog tossed. “ _Shar-at_...”

“…Actually…that sounds about right. He won’t risk the journey for one Hobbit. For one...me. I’m not the warrior he is. Just a Hobbit, a Baggins….” Loki shifted this time. “…Got myself captured…barely protected Thorin—”

“Be silent, you worm!” Azog roared, grabbing a piece of his armour and flinging it across the short distance. It hit Bilbo square on the head, successfully knocking him out. Loki watched with tired eyes, turning them to Azog with a scowl.

“That was cruel, how will you treat our children if you can’t handle one Hobbit?”

“ _Tail-ul fiim-ghaaraz._ Won’t have to _handle_ after it learns its place.” 

“You make me so hot so when you talk like that.”

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

Another day’s travel later and a knob on the head of Bilbo was prodded away by Loki, who was undoing his bindings for the day.

“Wake up. Hobbit!”

Bilbo curled in one himself, before getting the now familiar scent of Orc, and remembering this was no place to sleep in. “Nng, what? Oh—”

Loki lifted him by the middle with his boot. “Get up.”

Bilbo hurried to do so with as much dignity as possible, blinking away the sleep and rubbing his sore neck. “Where is he?” He always asked that, much to Loki’s annoyance. 

“Not here, obviously. Up! Or don’t you want food?”

“Food? You think I can think of food at a time like this?” Bilbo shot back, but quickly thought better of it. “Although maybe, yes.”

Loki had never gone without a good serving of food during his time with the Orcs, but it had only ever been meat. This morning on the menu was a small stag, gutted and skinned and waiting for them by a fire. Loki smirked, having expected no less.

“Well.” Bilbo said, blinking in surprise at the service.

“Quite a nice day.” Loki hummed, looking around the clear skies as he took a seat besides the fire, helping himself to the cooking meat.

“Where-where are we?” Bilbo had to ask, ignoring his rumbling tummy in favour of side stepping just a little, only to see the multitude or Orcs rambling and bustling just down the hill. “Oh my—oh.”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Loki chuckled, tucking in.

Bilbo frowned, rubbing his arms and quickly returning to Loki’s side. “I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t call it that.” He sat and hesitated before getting his own piece, careful not to burn himself, or take a raw side.

“They make for the perfect slaves.” Loki shrugged.

“You must be quite high up on the food chain to be able to think that.” Bilbo tried not to sound impressed or interested, nibbling to keep his mouth busy.

“I can’t confess to understand how you must see it. A mouse among wolves.”

Bilbo hummed noncommittally, now digging in ravenously as the juice flowed, but the stares from passing Orcs dampened it somewhat. “…Are we, I mean—I know you’re…do they really listen to you? Or is it just…?”

Loki followed his gaze to stare down a particularly rude Orc, visually daring him to say or do something. The Orc relented, and Loki snorted. “Yes. Some reluctantly, some willingly. Either way, if they don’t it’s death.”

A soft crazed laugh escaped the Hobbit around his mouthfuls. “Azog must be smitten to waste his _slaves_ for you.”

“I don’t need Azog to kill them for me.” 

“Well, why get your hands dirty? Really dirty.”

“True. I get dirtied enough.” Loki emphasised on the word _dirtied_ , and Bilbo lowered his food with a groan, igniting Loki’s laughter.

A short while later brought an Orc Bilbo hadn’t seen before. He definitely hadn’t, for he was just as—if not taller—than Azog himself. Ugly as a rabid soaked cat, and covered in unfriendly armour. He just screamed _unfriendly_. And that included Orc standards.

Bilbo shrunk, watching the new Orc picking on the others as he passed by, a small team following him. “And-and who is that?” he asked in a hushed voice.

To his surprise Loki sneered. “Bolg, Azog’s son by some…you know, I don’t know.”

Bolg stopped in front of them, staring Bilbo out of his skin, before daring to challenge Loki’s.

Loki just twisted his face in innocent curiosity. “You know I never asked about your mother, Bolg? What could she have looked like? Or is she whom your father rides?” He thumbed towards the Wargs.

As expected, the Orc made a loud response, neither man could decide if it classified as a roar, growl or hiss, and marched off as if it took all his lacking will power not to swing his scary looking club and beat Loki to death.

Bilbo sat paralysed, his heart thumping out of his chest. More Orcs were knocked around as Azog’s spawn disappeared, a roar or two more echoing.

“He’s always so emotional.” Loki commented belatedly.

Bilbo tried to steady his hands (and stomach) enough to resume eating. “…I’m sure anyone would be if you spoke about their mother like that. Evidently even Orcs. …I didn’t realize Azog had a son…”

“Twice the trouble for your Dwarves.”

“Seems like a bit of trouble for you too. Though it doesn’t seem entirely uncalled for.”

“I take my amusement where I can.”

The rest of breakfast went without problem. They ate until full, Loki making meaningless comments on mundane things like they were sitting on Bilbo’s porch smoking a pipe. While the Baggins side of him wanted that more than anything right now, the Took in him kept creeping its way closer to Loki.

“So…you turn blue. And you know magic. Are you a…Wizard? I recall Gandalf saying something about two Blue Wizards?”

“I doubt I’ve any relation to that, the first people I came across here were the Orcs.” Loki said, thoughtfully. “I do wield magic yes, if that is what you’re asking. _What_ I am is a little more complicated, especially explaining it to some tiny mortal ferret.”

Bilbo dramatically rolled his eyes. “ _Where_ does ferret come from?”

“…I am a frost giant. From a land that is continuously cold and dark. Snow and ice covers everything and anything. It’s a harsh environment.”

“And all frost giants are blue?” Bilbo asked. “You don’t look all that giant. I mean compared to a few beasts I’ve seen.”

Loki glared down at him. “I hold the unfortunate cards of being a runt. My people are far taller and larger than even Azog.”

“What? Well. That sounds…dangerous.”

“They are.”

“…Did they…kick you out? For being small?”

“…Let’s speak no more of this.” Loki quickly turned grumpy, pouting off. Bilbo held his tongue, but was saved the awkwardness as Azog approached their company, reaching out a monstrous hand to Loki, who took it half heartedly. He lifted Loki up and pressed him against his chest, sniffing along the side of his face, and caressed it with surprising gentleness that completely threw off Bilbo.

“Why the face, mate mine?” 

“Bad memories.” Loki pouted, leaning against his chest.

“Why not you take them out on your pet?” Azog asked, showing Bilbo a fanged grin when he looked up in alarm. He was apparently more sadistic than Loki was.

Loki made a disgruntled sound and nuzzled into his neck, where Bilbo assumed it smelt worst. “He’s far too weak to handle a beating from me. Any beating, really. Besides, I much more enjoy taking them out with you…”

Azog growled wantonly, reaching down to grope a handful of Loki. “Your belly not filled? Must try harder…”

“Mmh, I like the sound of that.”

Bilbo turned in the opposite direction mechanically, past the point of reacting. Externally at least, inside he was still screaming and cursing Gandalf and Thorin.

“I leave tonight.” Azog grunted, humming as Loki licked across his chest like a kitten. “Master calls. I must go to Dol Guldur.”

Bilbo tried not to react to that, finally hearing of a location, and left it to Loki who whined and pulled at Azog. “Dol Guldur? And how long will that be? Am I not important? All you care about is chasing that Dwarf.”

“Has to be done.”

“Ugh.” Loki spat, his mewling gone in a second. He turned to storm off and grab Bilbo on the way, but Azog grabbed him first, wrenching him back. The force of it startled both Loki and Bilbo, and the change of atmosphere was apparent in a second.

“You do not walk away from me.” Azog growled, pulling Loki against him.

“Or what?” Loki growled back, twisting his arm as the tension rose. Bilbo knew it best not to look, not to incite the Orc’s anger or attention, but if Loki lost his footing with these beasts he might not survive until someone found him, _if_ they found him. And to make it worse, Loki was not playing nice. Suddenly Bilbo _wanted_ Loki to go all she-cat for the Orc.

“What? Because the Hobbit is here?” Loki spat, realising the show of dominance for what it was.

“You will not tarnish my reputation. You will respect me in front of my prey.” Azog growled particularly articulately, twisted his grip until Bilbo was sure he himself would’ve been crushed, but Loki didn’t even bat an eyelash. Instead, in a sharp tug he pulled his arm free, turning blue and pointing a very angry looking finger. Bilbo shot to his feet, feeling sick enough that he might throw up all the stag.

“And you will not lay a hand on me lest you wish me to rid you of your last one!”

Clearly Loki wasn’t granted entire immunity from the Orc’s wrath. Azog roared and struck him in the chest, knocking him to the ground, then turned and marched straight for Bilbo. 

Stuttering the word _NO_ repeatedly Bilbo ran around the fire, near fainting. He ran into Loki, who was back on his feet and looking murderous. Azog stopped a few feet before them, snarling like his Warg.

“I-I-I-I’m guessing your rope doesn’t go this far.” Bilbo squeaked, panting in fright.

“ _Gund-lat Akashuga-sha_?” Azog growled, pointing his make shift hand.

“You gave him to me, and I want him alive. And if you want me to keep giving myself to you, _you_ will respect _that_.”

Evidently Azog wasn’t as smitten as Bilbo thought. Loki however, had long known the only true alliance he had was his own. He twisted out of the way as Azog lunged, pulling the Hobbit with him by the collar.

What followed was more than enough to rid Bilbo of his breakfast, stampeding Orcs, Wargs and poisoned arrows. He would have surely died there, had it not been for Loki and his abilities. It was more magic than he had ever seen Gandalf use, and certainly not of the same kind. Watching Loki in action, disintegrating arrows and impaling Orcs on ice, made Bilbo as scared of him as he was the Orcs, but Loki threw him on a Warg, and had them miles away as Bilbo succumbed to shock.

 

Loki didn’t blame the poor Hobbit for passing out. He himself was still shaking, from both exhaustion and anger, but not so much fright. Mostly anger. He hadn’t expected much out of Azog, but he would not be treated like dirt when being so generous with his pleasures. But that was fine, it was time he moved on anyway. 

They were both still in one piece, Loki noted upon inspection, and rode throughout the night to get them far off enough, using magic to conceal their tracks. Azog was one-track minded, Loki knew better than to underestimate him even if he was stronger in essence.

To their infinite luck, or perhaps, the Hobbit’s luck, they were found by none other than his Wizard friend, Gandalf. The old man looked overjoyed to see them, bending to scoop Bilbo into a hug, shaking his head and sighing heavily in relief.

“You are going to make my heart give out if you keep disappearing like that.” Gandalf joked, oozing nothing but gratefulness.

“Trust me, you and I both.” Bilbo laughed, and quickly remembered his manners. He stepped back besides Loki. “Erm, Gandalf, this is Loki. He was er…” He looked up at Loki with a frown, one Loki shrugged to. “He er, was also a captive. In the Orc camp. But he got us out. It’s thanks to him I am alive.”

“Is it now?” Gandalf murmured rhetorically as he studied Loki, who studied him right back. But a neutral smile spread across his face and he extended a hand. “Then you have my gratitude, stranger.”

“It was nothing.” Loki smiled, shaking his hand.

“Nothing? It was amazing. He is amazing.” Bilbo gushed, but stopped short, swaying on the spot. Gandalf steadied him by the shoulder.

“Are you alright? Do you need to eat?”

“No, no, I’m fine actually. Just a little—my nerves. It’s been a hellish few days.” Then he gasped, remembering what they had been doing out there in the first place. “Thorin? Thorin, is he alright?”

“He is fine, Master Baggins.” Gandalf assured, waving him down. “He is fine. But I suggest we move, or we won’t be.”

“Azog will no doubt track us down.” Bilbo groaned, looking across the field. 

“Our destination is near. We’ll be safe there, the others are waiting for you.” Gandalf then looked between them awkwardly. “But I only have one horse, and there are three of us.”

“You’ll let him come with?” Bilbo asked in surprise. Loki’s eye brows shot up, having expected to be told to go on his way.

“Well I hardly imagine you’d stand for sending away your rescuer alone and unarmed, even if he is as amazing as you say.”

Bilbo blushed, smiling in thanks. 

“I _can_ leave, if you wish it.” Loki offered Gandalf. He could see the concealed distrusted in the man’s wise eyes and he knew pretending otherwise would be folly. This was no ordinary old man, he had power and insight beyond what his shell suggested, much like himself. 

But it was the Hobbit that answered, turning around to face him. “No please. Come with us. It’s not safe to be alone, even for you.”

“I can hold my own just fine,” Loki chuckled, to which Bilbo snorted.

“I’ve seen enough of that.”

“Just remember you have Thorin to answer to, bringing in a stranger.” Gandalf reminded. Loki’s interest peaked at the name, wanting to finally put a face to the name.

“Ah. Well, it’s just for a night, or so,” Bilbo frowned, patting Loki on the arm. “He’s coming with.” And that was that.

“We’ll have to find another horse,” Gandalf said, squinting around, “There was a ranch—”

Loki whistled loudly, cutting him off. 

“That’s alright, I brought my own steed."

Not three seconds later a Warg burst from the trees, frightening the horse silly and putting Gandalf on defence. Bilbo jumped to calm him and the horse, but Gandalf only lowered his staff when the Warg nuzzled at Loki’s neck, lapping at him, tail waging like an ordinary dog. It was not natural, and he made sure to give Loki a suspicious look.

“How long were you at that camp?” he asked.

“Just a week longer than Bilbo…” Loki petted the Warg, scratching its head in praise.

“Don’t question it,” Bilbo suggested, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s his Warg.”

“…Never heard of such a thing.” Gandalf murmured, successfully gaining a narrowed gaze of Loki.

“Can we please just _go_?!” Bilbo shouted, half hysterical.

On the way to Gandalf’s destination Bilbo road with him, Loki rode the Warg. This time Loki didn’t dare try conceal there tracks, unappreciative of the Wizard’s watch. Nevertheless they made it through in one piece, travelling at high speeds to add time to the gap. The only problem came when they finally reached their destination, and Loki was tackled off his Warg by a ferocious looking bear. 

The Warg took the brunt of the blow and had no chance to strike back as the mighty beast went in for the kill. Loki rolled away, fighting to his feet and speeding Gandalf’s way. He took the hand offered and jumped up onto the horse behind him, hearing Gandalf murmur in a foreign tongue to the horse as he watched the Warg go still under the lumbering mass of the bear.

Just through the trees was a house, and they made it inside the boundaries before the bear could catch up. Gandalf rushed them into the doors, and straight into the spot light of a dozen surprised Dwarves.

Instantly they all cheered upon the return of Bilbo and Gandalf, but it was mere seconds before the multitude of small suspicious eyes landed on Loki, weighing more so than even Gandalf’s.

“Bilbo! We were worried sick!” Bofur cried, pushing Nori and Dwalin out the way to grab the Hobbit and squeeze him tight.

“I-I’m alright,” Bilbo laughed, hugging him back. When they parted Bilbo’s smile fell, and Loki followed its direction.

“You.” Spat one of the Dwarves, to whom all the others seemed to relent to. He had a tight expression, small angry looking eyes and carried himself with a clear gait that of a king. Loki knew instantly he was Thorin Oakenshield.

“Thorin,” Bilbo sighed, in both relief and apprehension as the Dwarf descended upon him.

“You could have died!” Thorin shouted, making the Hobbit flinch. Loki raised a brow near past his hair line, but Bilbo just stood, his frown growing into a glare. “What were you thinking? Facing Azog like that?!” he continued, invading Bilbo’s space.

Loki gave the Hobbit points for not backing down, he was indeed a brave little thing.

“But if you hadn’t,” Thorin continued, dropping his shoulders, “I would have surely died.”

The group of Dwarves erupted into cheers as the Dwarf king drew in Bilbo, squeezing the life out of him and murmuring in what Loki supposed was his native tongue for Bilbo looked just as stupefied. Gandalf had a bright smile on his face, and turned away to rest now that the confrontation was over. Or rather the part he would feel the need to intervene in.

As soon as Bilbo was thoroughly hugged, Thorin turned his beady gaze on Loki, and none too subtly pressed Bilbo behind him and into the waiting wings of his company. Loki rolled his eyes heavily, just as Bilbo rolled his.

“And you are?” Thorin prompted.

Loki hesitated, then bowed. “Loki of Asgard.”

“Asgard?” Thorin asked, “I’ve heard of no such place.”

“I hadn’t heard of your Erebor either, so we’re equal.”

The tension between them was obvious, so Bilbo quickly slotted himself between them. Loki noted Gandalf watching them with a small secretive smile.

“Thorin, he helped save me from Azog. He got me out.”

“Yes, _I_ saved him, since no one was appearing.” Loki taunted. It was successful and the Dwarves bristled, most of all Thorin who Bilbo had to hold back with a high-pitched laughed.

“Which we all know couldn’t be helped!” Bilbo near shouted, resting all his weight on the Dwarf.

“And just what were you doing with Azog?” Thorin barked at Loki, looking at him head to toe, “A Man in an Orc camp, _alive_. I have never heard of such rubbish. You look well enough.”

“Can we please not talk about that?” Bilbo begged, knowing full well that Thorin wouldn’t rest if he had means to distrust Loki. “Please, he helped me survive. He saved my life when Azog was about to…he protected me.”

Slowly, the Dwarf king backed off, pointedly looking Bilbo over for injuries whilst ignoring Loki, calling forward a Dwarf called Oin, and shouting for another to get food.

A good while later of eating decent food, and Bilbo telling the tale of his time with the Orcs (leaving out huge chunks of details, to Loki’s amusement), the owner of the house returned. As did Loki’s ever wandering lust.

“You got your Hobbit back.” The man said, in a deep gravel-like voice. He was tall, taller than any Asgardian Loki had ever known. In fact, he could’ve passed for Jotun, if blue and shaven. That already had his instincts jumping, if the scent of earth and magic didn’t. “I am glad for you.” He said to Gandalf.

“Beorn, thank you for your hospitality. We are quite a bunch to be intruding.” Gandalf said, rising to greet him. But Beorn’s eyes were on Loki, who rose too. The house went silent, and everyone looked between them.

“Who is this, the one who can ride an Orc-Warg?”

A few of the Dwarves shot up, scandalized, Thorin first as expected. Bilbo groaned, a little too small to fight this battle.

“He rides Wargs?” Thorin asked, appalled.

“Loki has magic,” Gandalf cut in. His words gained the attention of the enormous man, and Loki had the impressed Gandalf was the only one Beorn respected. “A foreign magic. He used it to protect himself and Master Baggins against the Orcs.”

“He is no ordinary Man then,” Beorn rumbled, studying Loki with his enchanting golden eyes.

Loki slunk forward, smiling sweetly. “That’s good, no? One less weakling to look after.”

“Oi!” one of the Dwarves shouted, before they all started fussing.

“Do you live here alone?” Loki asked, ignoring them. He crept even closer, looking up in a wondrous awe at the beastly man. He wanted to run his fingers through all that hair and lick the sweat off his brow. The thought made him mewl without meaning to, silencing the rowdy Dwarves into confusion. Gandalf raised a brow, and Bilbo turned a knowing look to the table.

“…You are strange.” Boern said, and turned away to prepare food for himself.

“We apologise for bringing a Warg onto your land,” Gandalf said, to diffuse the awkwardness going around. It only served to double it.

Loki did a double take. “ _He_ was the bear?”

“He’s a skin-changer.” Gandalf explained. Bilbo frowned, incredulously, but it was no more surprising than what he witnessed from Loki.

“A skin— _oh_.” Loki barely contained his grin, scaring a few Dwarves as he rushed to follow Beorn, who just raised a brow at him. Loki grinned and leaned his elbows onto the large table, pushing out his backside and swaying it methodically side to side. “That sounds fantastic.”

“Feel free to kick him out,” Thorin called, “He’s not one of us.”

Loki shot the Dwarf a scathing glare. Beorn huffed, filling a huge glass of milk for himself. “Just for that I will allow him to stay.”

Thorin looked murderous, but he was as much a stranger to the house as Loki. Loki smirked in triumph, and itched closer. This time he got a warning glance from the giant, and ducked his head to feign humility, or shyness. Whichever it looked like.

“Stop that.” Beorn grumbled. He gestured for one of the Dwarves to take the jug from him, and pass it around. The Dwarf that hugged Bilbo first chose to step forward, steering clear of Loki, but accept the jug to refill their mugs.

“You intrigue me.” Loki murmured, lowering himself, his shoulder blades sticking out attractively.

“Enough.”

Loki pouted, and looking around the humble dwelling, full of animals. And moody Dwarves. “What? Is your wife in here somewhere?”

“There is no wife.”

“ _Ohh_.” Loki shivered, mind reeling at the idea of helping to repopulate his blood line.

Bilbo groaned audibly into his mug, shaking his head when the Dwarves looked at him questioningly. 

“So…you’re unmated?”

Thorin spat his milk out through his nose.

 

That night Loki crept out when they were all sleeping, and took the form of a female bear. Needless to say the Orcs scouting nearby were sent running by the roaring of two enormous bears engaging in very angry mating

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s somehow fun as hell to antagonise Thorin with Loki


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those reading!
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors!_

** Chapter 3 **

In the morning Beorn sent them off with steeds and followed behind at a distance to ensure their return, and his guests a safe journey. Thorin was not at all happy with the fact that Loki was tagging along, but Bilbo and Gandalf convinced him to let Loki pass, at least until they made it to the Elves. They could leave Loki there, out of Thorin’s copious hair—perhaps even create a problem for the great Thranduil; so the Dwarves tried to brighten up their king. Loki didn’t mind the petty insults, but found himself very curious to meet these Elves. Bilbo explained them to him from tales in his books, much to Thorin’s annoyance. And jealousy, Loki could smell that a mile away.

When they reached the boarders of the Mirkwood forest Loki instantly drew guarded. He was not alone, and tried not to look obvious as both Gandalf and Bilbo shared the sentiment.

“This forest feels...sick, as if a disease lies upon it. Is there no way around?” Bilbo asked.

“Not unless we go two hundred miles north, or twice that distance south.”

Loki stood back silent as Gandalf approached the entrance to the forest, studying it. To the side he realised Bilbo was fiddling with something in his pocket, wearing the exact same aura he had back in the room at the watch tower. Loki wondered with dry amusement if the Hobbit found it worth it to have gotten the object back, when Gandalf came striding back looking alarmed.

“Not my horse! I need it.” he said as the ponies were sent off.

Bilbo released the secret object in favour to following Gandalf. “You’re not leaving us?” Bilbo frowned as Gandalf mounted his horse once more. Loki felt he’d also be concerned, he had come to quickly realise just how important the Wizard was to this very stubborn group

“I would not do this unless I had to.” Gandalf said, apologetic. He then paused, catching Bilbo in a gaze. “You’ve changed, Bilbo Baggins. You’re not the same Hobbit as the one who left the Shire.”

Bilbo laughed, inclining his head as if it were obvious. He sobered then under Gandalf’s gaze, “I was going to tell you. I...found something in the Goblin tunnels.”

“Found what?” Gandalf leaned forward curiously, but he looked nothing short of suspicious. Loki concentrated his hearing as well, wanting desperately to know exactly what Bilbo carried. But Bilbo hesitated, back to fumbling with his pocket.

Gandalf narrowed his eyes. “What did you find?” If Loki had to guess, he would assume the old man knew exactly what Bilbo had found. But he did not press the issue when Bilbo finally answered, _lied_ , with a well said “ _My courage_.” Well, Loki supposed it wasn’t an entire lie, he had exhibited plenty courage.

“I’ll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that mountain without me.” Gandalf said seriously, staring down hard at the leader of their company. “This is not the Greenwood of old. The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray.”

“Lead us astray? What does that mean?” Bilbo asked nervously, looking from Dwarf to Dwarf. Gandalf shared a short look with Loki, who nodded in understanding at the seriousness of magical forces. It was also a silent question, involving the well-being of one Hobbit.

“You must stay on the path; do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again. No matter what may come, stay on the path!” Gandalf called as he turned and fled, racing back across the land.

The sky was growing darker, drizzling lightly, a foreboding sign. The Dwarves didn’t waste time, to their defence, and Thorin led the way into the forest. When he passed Loki he paused.

“If you pull anything in there, I will kill you.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo sighed, catching up to them.

Loki just smiled and bowed his head. “Understood.” He really wished he could see this Dwarf and Azog chained together in the same room, the results would be hilarious, if he could properly understand their languages.

Like Gandalf said, the forest was indeed heavy with illusion. It was a constant battle for Loki to relief himself of its influence, making sure to keep it from settling upon him before it could sink its claws in. He couldn’t however, do the same for fourteen others, _and_ clear their path. They eventually ended up lost, stumbling upon dead ends and circles. Even with his power to keep himself from falling under the spell, it did not mean the forest around him was instantly cleared for him. He did not understand the magic to overcome it. He too ended up fighting with the path to make sense, and after a while, he lost the Dwarves.

 

After suffering the effects of the forest long enough, Bilbo climbed a tree. The air above was refreshing and clear, filling his lunges and helping to clear the fog in his senses. From there he could see a lake, and the Lonely Mountain. They were almost there!

But when he conveyed the news down to his company, no one answered.

They had in fact been captured by giant spiders. The lot of them. He himself fell prey to one of the monsters, but awoke in time to strike it in the gut, flinging it over the edge and scrambling up in a panic. He ripped the webbing off of him, but there were noises coming from everywhere, and soon, another spider. Bilbo hid behind the tree trunk to escape it, and resorted to putting on the Ring, becoming invisible in the power of it but in addition joining the world on the other side.

The first thing Bilbo saw was Loki. And he was sure he hadn’t been in sight a second ago.

The man was hiding on a branch much like he was, only Loki was staring right at him, and Bilbo knew he was invisible as well. His form was distorted under the influence of the Ring, but he was in his blue skin, and something told Bilbo it wasn’t for the lack of Loki’s concealment, but the power of the Ring instead.

“That’s what it is? A magic ring?” Loki asked softly, using magic to carry his voice.

Bilbo smiled shortly, jumping as the voices of the spiders became comprehensible.

Loki followed his gaze. “They are speaking.”

“You hear that?” Bilbo whispered, shivering at the chanting of ‘ _Kill them_!’

“Somewhat. I don’t speak spider.”

Bilbo snorted silently, listening to the grotesque words. “You wouldn’t want to.”

“ _Stick it again! Stick it again! Finish it off_!” A spider shrieked, and they peeked around the bark to see one of the Dwarves singled out, squirming and kicking in the web under a spider.

“Horrible way to die,” Loki commented idly.

Bilbo shot him a glare. He sucked up his courage, using the panic brought on as the spiders became more riled up, ready to pounce. He threw a piece of wood as far as he could, and held his breath as the spiders chased it.

“ _What is it? What is it? Kill it! Feast! Feast_!”

But one remained, as Loki so helpfully pointed out. Bilbo groaned.

“ _Fat and juicy. Just a little taste._ ”

Bilbo groaned louder, his voice muffled as the spider ranted happily to itself, dragging Bombur from the others with every intention of eating him. Shooting Loki one last look, Bilbo gave him a dirty look for his unwillingness to help, and confronted the spider alone. He caught it off guard, striking it until it died, and he pushed in off the branch, not before it screeched, “ _It stings! Stings_!”

“Sting. That’s a good name.” he hummed to himself, the blood in his veins alive on adrenaline. A creek behind him shot through the air and he swirled, sword at the ready. Loki jerked back to avoid the tip, raising a hand.

Bilbo sighed and turned back to the Dwarves who were strung up like meaningless flies.

Loki pursed his lips, considering the situation himself. “Quite the company you have here. Almost as useless as leaderless Orcs.”

“Don’t let Thorin hear that,” Bilbo said, though he didn’t outright disagree. He did however haphazardly wave his sword. “Are you going to help me or not?”

This time Loki helped, cutting free the Dwarves and watching them sail to the ground, yelling and cursing as they clawed themselves free. But then Bilbo fell prey to another spider. He struck it but together they fell toward the ground, hitting branches and webs on the way down. Loki had a moment of indecision on whether to jump after him, but Bilbo had the advantage of the ring, his companions didn’t.

There were spiders everywhere, and Loki had the honour of watching the Dwarves fight. He dropped his invisibility mirage so to better concentrate, striking with his own pair of daggers in a style far from that of the Dwarves. His help was appreciated, he noted, by the younger Dwarves of the group, saving at least two of their lives with his stealth. The spiders were dangerous, but nothing he couldn’t handle and hadn’t handled before.

But then everything changed when a fair-haired man entered onto the scene accompanied by at least a dozen and a half others—Elves. He killed the last spider in their vicinity, Thorin’s one to said man’s ire, and came up armed with his bow, aimed at the Dwarf’s face. Loki instantly liked him.

“Do not think I won’t kill you, Dwarf. It would be my pleasure.”

Oh yes, Loki liked him a lot.

Then someone shouted, one of the Dwarves. “Help!” It was Kili, one of Thorin’s blood, cornered by a rogue spider.

“Kili!” Fili shouted as the spider pulled his brother by the foot, kicking and screaming.

Loki was a second away from risking one of the Elves’ arrows and throwing a dagger, but a female Elf swooped in from above, settling the danger in but a few seconds with impressible agility.

“Search them.” The leader of the Elves ordered, still in the Common Tongue.

All of them were subjected to being stripped of their weapons. Loki gave over his daggers reluctantly, and he was pleased to see he wasn’t alone in the sentiment. Still, his true weapon was a secret, and he was grateful when the Dwarves said nothing when the Elves scrutinised him, suspicious but ignorant.

After a few words the blond Elf convened with the redhead female, speaking softly in their language. They looked concerned, but Loki could tell the concerned lay primarily with the spiders.

Then like it was Loki’s birthday, the snobbish Elf approached Thorin, examining the sword he had in his possession. He said a few words in what Loki supposed were _Elvish_ , then spoke for all their ears. “Where did you get this?”

“It was given to me.” Thorin answered, reluctantly but firmly.

The Elf pointed the sword at Thorin.

“Not just a thief, but a liar as well.” He then barked orders at his men, and they were taken away.

They were prodded into a group, surrounded by the many graceful beautiful looking Elves, but it didn’t stop Loki from catching on Bofur’s whisper.

“Thorin, where’s Bilbo?”

Thorin looked around, as did Loki, but there was no sign of the little Hobbit.

Loki straggled behind the group, lacking the standing to band with them. He was too fascinated by the people and the large structure they approached to care. He wasn’t slow enough for the Elves to prod him, knowing his limit, but when they entered across the bridge and into the great doors of the hallway, Loki sensed the familiar presence of the strange ring, and its carrier. He looked over his shoulder, seeing nothing now thanks to the lag from the dark forest, except for the Elf leader, who was doing the exact same.

Loki kept silent, and followed their jailers to the dungeons. The Dwarves were kicking up a storm, but Loki had to admit they could have been locked in places far more foul. Not to mention that none of them had been harmed by the Elves. If anything, they were being treated decently, if Loki was to believe they were indeed trespassing on a foe’s land. Though a foe to the Dwarves, not him.

Loki found himself in a cell with one of the younger Dwarves, Kili, choosing to sauntered to the back into the darkness and unnerve the female Elf that stuck them in there. But she had eyes only for the Dwarf, who so cheekily kept her attention.

“Aren’t you going to search me? I could have anything down my trousers.” He said as she closed the gate. Both hers and Loki’s eye brows sprung up, but she kept her cool, staving either a smile or a spit, Loki couldn’t tell.

“Or nothing.” She replied calmly, before leaving.

Kili smiled to himself, even with the head Elf glaring at him. As soon as the Elves were gone the Dwarves started tackling the cell doors, serving only to give Loki and evidently Balin a headache.

For a short while Thorin was gone to speak with the Elf king. When he was brought back he was shouting and fussing, giving Balin more of a headache. 

Then the Elves came for Loki, who was the clear oddity of the group. Save for Bilbo, who was currently probably somewhere creeping around the hallways if he made it in. Loki kept an eye out for him but saw nothing. But when he was presented to the king, he had eyes for no one _but_ the king.

The man was gorgeous, as far from the Asgardian standards of male beauty as possible, but to Loki’s wide spectrum, he was possibility one of the most beautiful beings in existence. And the fact only multiplied when Loki realised he was the Elf warrior Legolas’ father. There was something about fathers that made his blood hot, and he was almost sure it had to do with the fact that they were most certainly virile. 

“So then, what are you, exactly?” Was the first thing the Elf king said to him, sitting upon his throne like he ruled all of Midgard. Loki wanted to crawl up those steps and climb straight into his lap.

It was only when he had four Elvish guards at his throat did he realised he tried to do exactly that. King Thranduil was on his feet, watching down Loki wearily as Loki was yanked back from the stairway, blushing and grinning like one mad.

“Do that again, and I will have your head.”

“You can have more than my head,” Loki flirted, smirking and titling his head back with a flutter of his lashes as the guards stepped back.

The king frowned, but not negatively. He was intrigued, Loki could tell.

“Where do you come from?” the king asked, remaining on his feet. He started descending slowly, though regal and utterly majestic. The Aesir would have screamed _ergi_ , so smooth, clean and petite, but his voice, _oh_ , it would have commanded them all. It rivalled even Heimdall’s, and that was a feat.

“I asked you a question, stranger.”

“A long way away,” Loki answered, feeling like a dark shadow in comparison to the brightness of the Elf king. “Nowhere of consequence to you.”

“You are trespassing in my land with a bunch of Dwarves. In _Thorin Oakenshield’s_ company no less. It _is_ of consequence to me. I have every right to know everything and anything I wish to, and since your king will not loosen his crude little tongue, I was hoping you would.”

There was so much Loki wanted to say to that, starting with ‘I am good with my tongue,’ but he also knew that the etiquette of royalty did not find entertainment in such boorish responses. He had clearly been too impressionable around the Orcs.

“…He is no king of mine. I had the unfortunate circumstance of having a run into some Orcs. They were kind enough to save my life.”

“And bring you into my land?”

“Thorin made it clear I was no longer his problem once we entered the trees. We were hoping you would be so kind as to help me find my way since Thorin’s hospitality has…reached its limits.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, a small smile playing across his face.

“I don’t imagine Thorin would have extended the idea that I was any more hospitable than he is. Unless it’s a cruel joke and he was desperate to be rid of you, and so conveniently at my expense.”

“Oh I don’t think it’s a joke,” Loki smiled charmingly, hands clasped behind his back and suddenly standing with all the honour of a prince. “This place is no battle worn fortress. Your cells are hardly that of a proper jailer and not one of the Dwarves suffered any abuse by your guards. Who I might add are not as rude and ugly as Thorin had me believe. I wouldn’t think you’re one to take pleasure in keeping captives.”

“Such is the pleasure of the petty and short-lived.” Thranduil said, now pacing in front of Loki, his hands too behind his back. Loki wondered who would break first and grab the other. “What gain is there to be had in such dealings? If Thorin wishes to wilt away in a cell rather than tell me why he is wandering my land so be it. I personally gain neither satisfaction nor dissatisfaction from it.”

“That is a pity, that he will risk his kin for his pride.”

“His line is quite famous for risking their kin for things such as pride and greed.”

“We’ve all fallen to that at some point,” Loki said diplomatically.

“You’d be surprised at how good the Dwarves are at such.” Thranduil said, mockingly.

“My King Thranduil,” Loki started, the ‘my’ gaining the kings attention, “I do not profess to know the Dwarf’s plans. I am a mere acquaintance, one he would forsake if given the chance. If he treats his kin as such, how do you think he treats me?”

A long moment passed where they watched each other, the soft whispers of wind drifting through the countless pathways. Loki let the king circle him, offering no direct submission or fear, but openness.

“Very well, I am bought.”

Loki smiled in his own satisfaction.

“But explain to me what you are.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “A god.”

“Now that I would not buy even if it is what Thorin had to confess this day.”

Loki snorted. “I think you’ll find the humans disagree.”

“The mortality of Men leads them to believe many asinine things.”

Loki pulled his face, not about to argue with the king and lifted his hands in peace. “I cannot disagree there.”

“Like Thorin I have an inkling or two about your presence, especially in his company. But if you wish not to share it, please do enjoy the comfortable cells we have provided.”

“You are not afraid I will escape, asking me what I am? As if it might be of danger to you…” Loki grinned this time, a full blown mischievous grin. The king knew he was something else, and the uncertainty fuelled Loki’s ego.

“Anyone would succumb to decapitation. We may be kind in our jailing but we are not hesitant to remove those that pose an immediate threat.”

“What if I would be a grand ally?”

“Rethink your answers to me the next time we speak and perhaps I will humour the thought.”

And with that Loki was whisked away back to the dungeons. No grabbing, well damn.

The guards looked at him with proper concern and apprehension this time, finally realising he was no normal man. What Thranduil thought him to be Loki didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to give it all away when playing hard to get was funnier. Ironically he chose Thorin’s path, but he had far less to lose than the stupid Dwarf who would risk his whole journey on spiting the Elf. 

Kili said nothing to him when he returned, as did the other Dwarves, who were trying to whisper at each other through the bars, their breathing alone enough to wake the dead.

The night dragged away, the sound of a party echoing down to the jails. He made a vague comment about it, and Kili took the initiative to explain to him what the Elf Tauriel had explained to him about the party. Loki hoped the Elf King was drinking himself away, it would increase the chances of being taken straight back to him. The seed had been planted, it just needed to sprout. Loki would need a piece of that before he left Earth again, one way or another.

It was in the early hours of the morning that any development happened. The Dwarves were in low spirits, their leader saying nothing to keep them going. Loki thought it was poor leadership, but he was learning it was useless to talk sense to a Dwarf.

Then out of the blue, Bilbo reappeared, boasting the keys to their cells, a little guardian angel in the darkness. The Hobbit was indeed incredibly significant to their cause, Loki didn’t know how long they’d been travelling together, but even he could see it.

When Bilbo spotted him, he threw a hand up, exasperated. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you magicking yourself—or _anyone_ —out?”

“I am waiting for the Elf king to see his faults and come for me.”

“Oh for goodness sake.”

Bilbo had a route to escape. It took Thorin’s direct order to get the prideful sceptical Dwarves into the barrels, but it lead them to freedom. Loki however, was far too tall to squeeze himself into one such barrel, and stood aside until Bilbo sent the Dwarves off, then stood blinking, realising they were left behind.

Loki shrugged when Bilbo looked at him. “I can’t taunt you for forgetting us, you got thirteen noisy Dwarfs out and that on its own is a feat.”

“Where is the keeper of the keys?”

Both jumped at the sound of Tauriel’s angered voice. Bilbo squeaked and grabbed onto Loki’s wrist, walking them backwards. Loki was about to suggest putting on the ring, when the floor gave in and they were went stumbling out into the stream below.

The Dwarves had waited for them, or rather, waited for Bilbo, helping to pull him up to cling on the side of a barrel. 

“Well done, Master Baggins.” Thorin said, extremely pleased, ignoring Loki who was clutching to the rock around them. It was Kili who offered him a hand, smiling shortly, offering nothing more than a chance. 

For a minute or so it seemed so promising that they would escape (not that Loki would mind having another try at the Elf King, whilst wet and flustered), but Legolas and his guard appeared, ensuring the gateway out was sealed. Loki was about to indeed _magic_ their way out when one of the Elvish guards were shot in the back, by a very familiar looking black arrow.

And like a swarm of death, Bolg appeared with his own men, growling and attacking from all corners.

The Orcs attacked, practically jumping at the barrels if they weren’t using their bows, apparently _extremely_ pissed off and eager to kill them. Loki took advantage of the fact that Bolg hadn’t personally seen him hiding between the barrels and concealed himself, startling two of the Dwarves who saw it happen. It kept him from being a target, but it didn’t stop him needing to avoid accidental hits, and helping to kill the Orcs that got too close for comfort.

But then Kili was out of his barrel, aiming for the lever responsible for their halt, his brother grabbing after him. The second Loki turned eyes on him he knew, and not a moment later was he struck by Bolg’s arrow. Thorin reacted, but he was too far to do anything. Kili fell, groaning, becoming easy prey for the Orc rushing toward him. 

In a tense second the presence of the Elves were felt again, Tauriel striking down Kili’s attackers with her bow whilst defending herself from Bolg’s kill-orders. Groaning, watching the Dwarves and Bilbo fight for their lives, Loki hauled himself to and up the bank, sweeping up himself a weapon from a fallen Orc and striking the next one that aimed for the young prince.

As he struck the Orc across the chest an arrow zinged past his ear, finishing the beast off. He shoved it away, looking back to scowl at Tauriel who obviously hadn’t seen him, his visibility falling as he struck. In that moment he saw her eyes widen in surprise, but reminding him of Sif, she recovered in a second and focused back on the battle.

Seeing as he was visible again, the Orcs appeared to have a new target. The look on Bolg’s ugly face was almost worth it, but the amount of effort it took to stay alive afterwards was a bitch. Both he and Kili attacked the lever together, opening the gateway so that they could escape. The prince was in pain and struggling to stand so Loki pushed him over the edge and back into the barrels, just in time as they were sucked down the stream. He saw Bilbo shouting back at him, sweetly concerned, and Loki found himself wondering if to return to the Elves, or follow the Dwarves.

“If death is your wish keep standing there!” Tauriel shouted sassily as she sailed over his head, shooting down two Orcs in one go and kicking a third into the water.

“I am trying to debate my wish,” Loki shot back, getting back into action nevertheless. He followed along after her, and found himself part of the Elf force that was chasing down the Orcs, who were chasing down the Dwarves. To stay, or to go? The more pressing issue seemed to live or die, seeing as how the Orcs were aiming for him just as much as Thorin. Tauriel said nothing, as did the other Elves who so obviously could see the advantage to his addition. It was Legolas who veered his way across the water, fallen Orcs and trampled Dwarves in his wake.

“Why are they targeting you?! Who are you?” He called above the roar of the water and the battling Orcs.

“I am on your side, is that not enough?!” Loki called back, irritable. 

“Not to my father!” 

_To go_ , Loki decided.

“Then that is your problem.”

Scowling, Legolas left him be, jumping back towards the middle of the battle, which was on top of the Dwarves’ heads. It gave him the ability to shoot Orcs on both sides while his guard snuck up from behind them, skilled and fast they were. Legolas particularly, and Loki supposed he must have appeared to have the same smug attitude on Asgard when showing off his own agility. Not that Asgard ever truly appreciated it, the brutes.

Orcs after Orcs went down, and each moment was a battle for Loki not to revert to his Jotun form and very easily ice the entire place. While the Elves could tell he wasn’t what he seemed, he somehow doubted they would treat him very nice if he revealed his true nature in such an aggressive way. Not to mention Thorin, he’d probably knock the Elves out of the way to do it himself. 

Knowledge was power, in any case. The less _any_ of them knew, the better.

At the first chance Loki got he transformed into a crow, the immediate danger at a low. Most of the Orcs were dead and the Dwarves were ahead, but Loki had no intentions of jumping back into the water or running along the bank, a target for the ever present Orcs. Transformations took as much energy from him as invisibility did, but at least this would save his feet the burden. They left behind the Elves, and Loki followed the Dwarves down stream until finally they stopped, the water having lost its urgency.

Loki landed in the trees to turn back, wanting to keep that ability to himself. He caught his breath and idled until the Dwarves made it to shore. He prepared himself for their questions when he stepped out, but then Kili fell, groaning in pain. Bofur was there, worriedly, but Kili brushed him off. Loki approached, ignoring the suspicious eyes, and the relieved sigh of Bilbo.

“On your feet.” Thorin said as he passed Kili.

Fili frowned at his brother’s side, reminding Loki suddenly of Thor and how he missed the idiot. “Kili’s wounded. His leg needs binding.”

“There’s an Orc pack on our tail; we keep moving.”

“Did you not hear him?” Loki said, raising a slim brow as Thorin turned toward him, mouth opening in no doubt a harsh retort. To save the peace Balin interrupted.

“Where to now?”

“To the mountain; we’re so close.” Bilbo answered, gaining Thorin’s attention.

Balin sighed silently. “A lake lies between us and that mountain. We have no way to cross it.”

Bilbo shrugged. “So then we go around.”

“The Orcs will run us down, as sure as daylight. We have no weapons to defend ourselves.” Dwalin grunted.

Thorin gestured to Kili, who was doing his best not to make a sound as he clutched his leg. “Bind his leg, quickly. You have two minutes. And you,” He aimed at Loki, everyone going still. “I want you gone.”

“Not the most polite thing to say to someone who helped save your lives.”

Thorin said nothing in return, turning his back with finality. There was peace for but a moment, enough so to bind Kili’s leg, before someone snuck up on them. Loki hadn’t been paying particular attention, exhausted and listening to Bilbo explain what he knew about the area around them, if only to appease Thorin. Dwalin was the first to react, rushing to protect the young Dwarf Ori, but got an arrow in the branch he held for his troubles. Kili was next to put up a fight, still pumped with adrenaline, but the rock was shot out of his hand, and their attacker strung another arrow before Loki could raise his hand.

“Do it again, and you’re dead.”

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And enter the gorgeous Baaaaaard
> 
> Don’t you worry, Loki will catch Thranduil when they meet again. With Bard. That is going to be the fuckfest of the millennia. 
> 
> ~~loki has a major DILF fetish~~
> 
> EDIT** Kind of on hiatus. Lost inspiration for now OnO


End file.
